Clay ballerina's
by LuminaCarina
Summary: Who knew that two lonely children bonding over junk and cookies would lead to such a world-changing decision. Maybe this year won't be so horrible after all... EDITED
1. How About Today?

**I don't know where this came from. Maybe from listening to 30 seconds to Mars, maybe from my own longing for excitement, but it doesn't really matter.**

**It's just a tester, so tell me if you like it and maybe I'll continue it.**

Harry stared at the flickering candle-light.

His unfinished essay on the properties of Baneberry and Alihotsy in poisons lay next to him, precariously close to the fireplace, but Harry wasn't bothered with its safety in the least. He could always just turn in a blank parchment – it wasn't as if Snape would grade him any differently.

There was just something about fire that called to him. Its colour and wildness seemed to resonate within him every time he looked at it, and it was so easy to get lost in his own thoughts with only its crackling as company.

Nowadays, life was so much harder than before. He never thought he would think so, but everything was a million times simpler when he only had Voldemort to worry about. Then he at least had friends to help him overcome his hardships and to act as moral support.

Then he didn't have to worry about his school-mates hexing him in the hallways, or Ravenclaws sneering at him during class. Only a year ago, he would have laughed if someone told him that the Hufflepuffs would slip dead mice and dirt in his food.

Slytherins sneering at him and goading him was normal; Gryffindors abandoning him at the worst moment possible was normal; having the other two houses which had always treated him neutrally turn on him was most definitely not normal.

Of course, he was being a bit melodramatic. It wasn't the entire school that had turned on him, but rather it was only the vocal minority. Harry knew that, but it still stung when the others turned a blind eye to it all.

Ron was being a jealous prick, and every time he saw Harry his ears would turn bright red. He refused to listen to Harry when he tried to explain that he _couldn't_ explain how his name came out of the Goblet, and eventually Harry stopped trying. There was just no point to it. His best friend would see the truth eventually and would then come back with his tail between his legs.

Hermione took Ron's side; albeit, that might've been because Harry told her to do so. Still, it hurt to see her studying next to Ron when she avoided him like the plague. He didn't blame her for anything though, as she always stuck up for him whenever she saw Malfoy and his goons bothering him.

The professors were ignoring it all, choosing to remain blind to the insults spat at him between classes. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore was behind it. He couldn't prove anything, of course, but that twitch in his gut always appeared when he caught the Headmasters blue eyes following him at supper. Harry supposed there was some measure of calculated wisdom to the Headmaster's actions, but he didn't really see it. Maybe it was just him, though.

Everybody kept telling him he wasn't wanted; after tripping over thin air for the 100th time, he took the hint.

He ate whatever Dobby brought him, and he ate it in the library. Madam Pince took pity on him and let him stay there as long as he didn't talk. But he couldn't be at the library all the time, and so he found sanctuary at the oddest place possible – Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Oh, she cried and whined and flirted with him in a most disturbing way, but there at least he could be alone. They also had a few deep conversations about bullying, and he took some comfort in knowing he would have a place in her bathroom if he ever gave up and got himself killed.

The door suddenly banged open and a bunch of sixth years filtered in. One of them, a girl he fuzzily recalled seeing with Fred and George but mostly knew from the way she followed Cedric around like a lost puppy, gave him a dirty look and loudly commented on 'nasty upstarts and their laziness', and Harry took that as his cue to leave.

It was a few hours after the curfew, but he figured that his cloak would keep him safe. The hallways were wonderfully empty and rather cold. Harry pulled on his cloak, trying to get warmer. He ended up in a dusty classroom filled with various boxes and no cupboards.

He entertained himself by rifling through the boxes and doing magic on their contents. Pillows, stuffed animals, figurines, mirrors, chalices, spoons, rope and needles. Harry enchanted them to fly, to change colours, to change size, and when he got really bored, to turn into animals or sing and dance when approached with the intention of using spells on them. Who would've guessed that he'd be so childish as to take revenge on his professors in such a disruptive way.

He stayed there all night, and when morning came he didn't leave. It wasn't as if he had never missed breakfast in his life.

And then the door, locked and warded (it was a very light notice-me-not, but so what, it wasn't like Hogwarts offered classes on warding), opened.

It was a girl Harry vaguely remembered seeing sitting at the left end of the Slytherin table. She looked around a year younger than him and had pale blond hair and eyes the colour of water colours. Her clothes were mussed up and Harry thought she looked like she had run a marathon.

''Potter!'' she snapped when she saw him, ''What are you doing here!?''

Her voice was breathless and outraged, and Harry kept quiet. He was actually doing his best to keep his face blank and expressionless, and he thought he did a good job of it.

However, he also did a good job of annoying the girl, ''Well, won't you answer me?'' she demanded.

''No.'' he said blandly.

She stopped tugging on her shirt in favour of staring at him with a sort of fascinated surprise, and breathed a disbelieving ''No?''

She didn't say or do anything else and Harry, after waiting for a minute to see what she would do, returned to his snow-globe. The little snowy thingies inside were turning pink and yellow and puke green without him to guide their transformation.

He didn't raise his head when she plopped on the ground next to him to observe what he was doing. Five minutes later she grabbed for a box of her own to search through. Soon, she had a couple of origami birds flying through the air and chirping. When the bell with bunny ears charmed on it began ringing to alert that the classes were starting, the girl silenced it.

They spent the next few hours playing, here and there helping each other with some tricky charms. They didn't talk much other than lightly gossip about the goings on in the castle, and Harry decided that, despite her strange way of speaking with a drawl and the tendency to elevate herself and thoughtlessly insult others without even noticing she was doing it, she was quite alright. Of course, he had a feeling she could be infuriating when she wanted to be.

Dobby delivered Harry his usual lunch – a slice of treacle tart and some roast chicken – around the same time Harry accidentally burnt his fingers with a badly done heating charm. The girl's stomach growled and Harry let her have a half of the chicken. He kept the tart to himself.

Later, while they were watching a clay ballerina hop and dance around the room with a transfigured Garfield the cat as a partner, she introduced herself.

''Astoria,'' she said and Harry nodded his head once. And that was it.

When they left the room after the sun went down they didn't say anything. It was an unvoiced pact that that their little play-date was never to be spoken of ever again. It would never happen again, after all.

Only, it did happen again.

The next day found Harry in the abandoned classroom with a bag full of junk he filched from the common room. He waited an hour testing the objects he spelled the day before and finding that the magic was wearing off when Astoria came. Her bag held similar trash and she was juggling a tray of biscuits and a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

They quickly set to work, exchanging nods and hesitant smiles, all the while carefully guarding their personal things. They were a Gryffindor and a Slytherin after all.

''Do you ever wish to run away?'' she asked during lunch break.

He stayed silent for a second, biting his lip, and then decided to throw caution to the wind. ''Every day.''

She shook the crumbs from her hands, and Harry felt strangely exhilarated.

''Would you? Run away, that is.''

He quivered. ''Yes,'' the word escaped from his lungs in a rush of air and wonder, and his gaze stayed firmly focused on her pale form. 'Is this what freedom looks like?' he asked himself.

She shivered, crushing the last biscuit, and turned to him.

''How about today?''

''Yes,'' he gasped, and just like that, his entire fate, along with the fate of the rest of the world, changed.

**Reviews would be lovely.**

**Unbetaed.**


	2. Like Thieves in the Night

**So, I updated this story. No idea why, to be honest. I don't even care for the pairing.**

**But still, thanks for the reviews, they were lovely.**

**If anyone thought the story's moving too fast, I'm not apologising for that. They're kids – impulsive, rash and tired of being controled. It will take some time for them to be anything more than friends, though, as they're not even that at this point in time.**

**Unbetaed.**

It was as if the entire world stopped for a moment and then continued spinning in the wrong direction. He was running away, him, Harry! He was leaving Hogwarts, his home! It was something that defied imagination itself.

It had been so nice to think about, so easy to daydream about it during classes, but now that it was really happening... Harry couldn't believe himself. He was having second thoughts. So maybe he wasn't being treated very nicely, so what? He was sure there were plenty of others who had it worse. He must be overreacting, for there was no reason for him to run away. And what would everybody say when they heard about it? What would Sirius say?

''Are you sure about this?'' he questioned Astoria as she got that Slytherin look on her face that told him she was taking this very seriously. Perhaps a bit too seriously for his tastes.

She looked at him, her pale lips pressed in a single thin line.

''Of course I am,'' she snapped, ''I've been waiting to run away for a long time now.''

What? He blinked at her in shock, surprised at her vehemence. What did a pureblood princess had to run away from? Another ball? It's not like she was in danger or anything. But he didn't know what to say to her answer without being rude or callous, so he kept quiet.

''We will need money,'' she said after some time of mumbling to herself, ''And we can't stay in Europe.''

Harry started, ''Not stay in Europe!? Where are we supposed to go?''

Britain was his home. That was where he had lived all his life, where he grew up, went to school and almost got killed. Britain had seemed like some kind of outer limit. Like, ''This is where you get to stay, you don't get to cross the sea.'' And now Astoria was talking about leaving Europe, as in the continent.

''Somewhere. Anywhere but here.''

She didn't seem concerned at all, but Harry didn't share her confidence.

''Well,'' he said angrily, ''How will we pay for it? As far as I know, food and housing costs money. Or are you expecting us to sleep in the woods?''

She was appalled, looking as if he'd proposed they eat slugs. 'Good,' he thought, 'maybe that will rattle her.'

''We can take care of that! Or are you saying you're backing out?'' she narrowed her eyes and bit her lower lip, and her whole frame trembled, ''Coward!''

''No!'' he shouted, and she responded with an outraged hiss.

''Then what? You stole all this junk, why can't you steal something more important, like money?''

Harry fumbled at that. She was asking him to steal from people, from his friends. He couldn't do that! He took a deep breath to calm himself down and considered her question. Once again, he came to the same decision. He wouldn't steal because it was wrong, and no amount of whining and yelling and begging from Astoria would change his mind.

She stared at him demandingly with her arms crossed, but he wouldn't back down. Stealing was wrong.

''Fine,'' she huffed in defeat, ''I'll take care of money. But you better not leave me high and dry, or else.''

He nodded. He could deal with that. But there was something else to decide.

''When should we meet?''

''Tomorrow evening,'' she decided, ''That way we'll have the entire night to get away. And it's a Saturday, so if we're lucky, we'll have an extra day. We should meet next to the-''

''Outside the Great Hall.'' Harry cut in.

Astoria hissed.

''We can't meet there! Anybody could see us. Filch could see us.'' She was spitting fire, looking like an angry cat.

Harry met her gaze evenly.

''If we try to meet at the hidden parts of Hogwarts, we might get lost. We could get caught by the portraits or the ghosts or Mrs. Norris. We can knock out a squib, but you can't do the same to a dead person.''

At that she calmed down. Harry got the feeling that either she hated him so much she could hardly bear to be near him and so she easily lost her temper, or there was something very much wrong with her. Maybe she was – what was that thing Hermione had mentioned – bipolar. Yes, maybe she was bipolar. If she was, then Harry was going to stay out of her way, thank you very much. He had enough mad people around him without her.

''Fine,'' she agreed, ''But if we do get caught, I'll say you forced me to come.''

Harry burned with fury at that, but he didn't say anything. It wouldn't be worth it, especially if he was dealing with a crazy person.

Astoria stood up and picked up her bag. She left him with the parting words of ''Don't mess up.''

He was left alone, sitting in the middle of spelled junk. 'Was it worth it?' he wondered. But it didn't really matter. He said he'd run away with Astoria, and that was it. No turning back.

Besides, the idea was attractive, incredibly so. He had spent his entire life like a dog – going from one master to another. First there were the Dursleys, then Dumbledore and finally Voldemort. At least with the Dursleys he knew where he was at – Dumbledore and Voldemort acted as if he was a ping-pang ball, sending him on wild missions to save the world or trying to kill him in the most brutal way possible, or, even worse, using him as a way to express their mutual dislike. Frankly, he was tired of it. If they had relationship issues, they should just get a cup of tea and deal with it like normal people instead of dragging everyone else in it.

He wanted to see the world. Not necessarily go abroad, but to visit Bath and Hadrian's Wall. He wanted to see Oxford and Cambridge, and go to the fair and eat candy floss without looking over his shoulder. Little things, like going to the sea and visiting a museum and eating a dinner at a fancy, overpriced restaurant.

And now, here was his chance. That tiny slip of a girl, who was a third-year but looked like a firstie, was offering him a chance to do all that. And to do it outside of Britain, outside of Europe as a whole! He would never forgive himself if he passed it up.

And all he had to do was pack up his stuff and show up in front of the Great Hall.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, he jumped to his feet and banished all the things in the room. All of it, that is, except for that little clay ballerina, which he stuffed in his satchel. He left the room running, doing his best to reach the Gryfindor common room before lunch ended.

And he made it. The Fat Lady tried to say something, but he interrupted her with a cry of ''Heroes!''. She sniffed in mock offence and commented ''Something you aren't.'' He didn't take her seriously, because she was very fond of him, mostly because he looked like his father.

The common room was empty and so were all the dormitories, but Harry knew from experience that they wouldn't stay like that for long. He had to be quick.

He threw all his clothes in his trunk, along with his parchment and quills and ink pots. In went his broom, Hedwig's treats and his photo album. After some consideration, he added a copy of Modern Magical History, offering a silent apology to Hermione in his head. A snarky voice in his head, which might have been his conscience, reminded him that just a minute ago he was arguing with Astoria about not stealing things. He promptly told it to shut up.

He then arranged it so that it seemed as if nothing changed, setting his books around in what was, hopefully, a messy fashion. It wouldn't do for his room-mates to start asking him why he was packing.

The next day passed by in a haze. He felt removed from everything, and it was as if his teachers and classmates couldn't touch him with their words or their actions. Harry was practically vibrating from excitement by the time supper came.

He had had a few close calls though, from Neville mostly, and once because of Lavender. They'd almost seen his packaged things and Harry had had to come up with explanations. They were feeble and so obviously fake, but they bought them. Sometime, Harry didn't know whether to pity or be grateful for his year-mates' naiveté.

He had snuck glances at Astoria, but she was acting as if nothing was amiss. She was chatting with her friends and class-mates, complaining about homework and asking for more pudding. It was all so normal he almost convinced himself that it had all been some kind of stress-induced dream and he wouldn't really be escaping. He was unsure if he should be relieved or disappointed if it turned out to be true.

When night fell Harry sneaked out of his dorm, ducking behind an armchair to avoid Alicia and Katie and finally left the common room by following Fred as he exited – going to cause mischief, no doubt. Harry distracted himself by debating whether Fred was off to prank the Slytherins or the staff. If he had to guess, he would say the Slytherins were his unfortunate targets this time.

He was hidden by his cloak, but he still felt strangely exposed. His nervousness got even worse when he didn't encounter anyone on his way down. It was as if the whole of Hogwarts was lulling him into a false sense of security before throwing something really bad his way. He could only hope that his doom wouldn't take the form of Peeves. That would be horrible. His musings almost made him trip down the stairs, and so he quickly cut off that train of thought. Best not to break his arms and legs tonight of all nights.

The hall in front of the Great Hall was empty, and according to the Map, Astoria was nowhere near. His stomach lurched. What if she didn't show?

Somewhere, a mouse squeaked.

And then he heard footsteps. A flash of white identified the newcomer as his partner in crime, and he exhaled in relief when he noted that she was levitating her trunk as well. Around her neck hung a pretty little purse that jingled delicately whenever the blonde moved.

''Are you ready?'' she whispered to him with excitement pulling at her lips.

''Yeah,'' Harry responded, a bright grin stretching his face as he let go of his anxieties.

She rolled her eyes at him and went for the door. The action didn't look angry or contemptuous, but was rather annoyed in a fond way. She pushed the door open and Harry winced at the little screech the hinges made. How she knew it would be unlocked, Harry would never know.

''Well,'' she turned to him, ''Are you coming?''

His only response were the quick strides with which he reached her.

'We're running away in the night, together,' Harry thought deviously, 'And no one in Hogwarts has any idea. This will be interesting.'

He pretended he didn't notice the face Astoria made at him when he whooped quietly into the violet night air.

**Reviews would be lovely.**

**LC**


	3. Platform Seven and a Half

**So, to clear things up a little.**

**People mentioned this story being similar to another one, Finding a Place Called Home. I hadn't known about it, but I read it to look for the similarities between it and my story. I guess I can see why people would say they're alike, but I can honestly say that I don't like the way that story, or at least the romance part, was handled.**

**I'm a big fan of *friendship-before-romance*, and for two brats who had only met a little bit ago to suddenly fall in love... **

**_Halfblood-fighting-LordVoldemort + Pureblood-daughter-of-a-DeathEater = instant love?_**

**No. Just, no.**

**My Harry and Astoria aren't even friends yet, and it'll take a while for them to even consider the possibility of being more.**

**Reviews would be lovely.**

Hogwarts grounds after dark were scary. The deep shadows, the unseen crows and the seemingly alive grass and bushes were very much like a set of a horror movie, only with an added component of magic to it. While that could be comforting to some, to Harry it gave a feeling that everything was possible, even bloody, gorey murder.

Of course, Harry had already known all that, having walked across the grounds many times, but Astoria hadn't. She kept quivering and jumping at the slightest sound. When Harry tried to say something to her – whether to comfort her or shut her up, he wasn't sure – she would snap at him with harsh whispers and even harsher words. Never before had Harry heard so many derogative terms about his hair. He hadn't even known it was possible to use some of those words as insults, let alone deliver them in the polite tone of voice Astoria used.

The third time she almost screamed at the hooting of an owl, Harry gave up and silenced her. He knew that they would get caught, – as there was no way they could escape without anyone ever finding them – but he was hoping that he'd get to see at least some of the world before that. And for that to happen Astoria had to be quiet, lest they be caught by Hagrid before they even left Hogwarts land.

She glared at him for waht he did, her lips moving faster than he could follow and her face getting redder and redder, but Harry ignored her. He was looking at the Map, checking if there was anyone following them and so he didn't have time for her antics.

They stopped when they reached the Gate.

Big and imposing, it looked like the mouth of a monster, or maybe the entrance to Hell. Nothing like the welcoming sight he remembered greeting him at the start of the year, but maybe that had something to do with the fact that then he'd been happily coming for a new school year, while now he was running away.

He lifted the spell from Astoria, and despite the nasty look she sent his way, she said nothing. Maybe she was just as affected as he was. He glanced at her to check, but her face was still and impassive, like a slab of rock, and he couldn't read her thoughts.

He didn't know what to do next, – What if there were spells in place to see who was coming and leaving? – but Astoria took a deep breath and casually strolled through them. Nothing happened. Hesitantly, Harry followed her example, waiting for something to stop him. Still nothing happened.

''Well, Potter?'' she whispered.

There was a daring curve to her lips, as if she was just waiting for him to slip up so she could pounce.

''Nothing.'' He answered, trying not to let her see how much she affected him.

And with that they continued on their way to Hogsmeade.

The quaint little village was different as well. The houses Harry had thought nice and homey before, now seemed dark, forbidding. He didn't like it there, but he was coming to the conclusion that everything looked spooky at night and that he just had to deal with it. And he would, if it meant he wouldn't have to take part in the Tournament.

Astoria led them through the village, not pausing once until they reached the Shrieking Shack. There, they stopped.

''We can use the port-key here,'' she said, still quiet, but no longer whispering.

''Why here?'' he asked confusedly. He didn't see any sign that would say, ''Here there be port-keys.''

She rolled her eyes at him agitatedly, but answered, ''There are spell limits in Hogsmeade. If we tried to use the port-key anywhere else, it wouldn't have worked because of them. They stop here.''

He felt foolish for having to have even asked, but it also angered him how Astoria treated him. There was no reason for her to be so confrontational or lofty. He was sure there were plenty of things she didn't know that he did.

''Oh.''

She huffed again, and stretched her arm forward. In it was a plain metal bracelet, like the ones muggles wore around their wrists to warn others of their allergies, in case they ever ended up in the hospital. Not really sure what would happen if he took it or where it would take him, but not willing to risk Astoria's wrath, Harry touched it.

Just when he thought that something went wrong, he felt a sharp tug behind his navel, and suddenly the world was spinning and melting into a blur of colours.

The landing was just as uncontrolled as the take-off, but this time it hurt much worse than at the World Cup. There was no grass to soften the blow, and he earned himself a series of scratches on his hands trying to save his glasses. He enviously watched as Astoria landed gracefully, with an easy hop.

Harry looked around, curious as to where they came and saw the little courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, complete with the overflowing garbage bins.

''Diagon alley?'' he hissed at her, ''We'll get caught for sure, and I've already been here.''

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, looking for the entire world like she was barely restraining herself from hitting him, and responded to him slowly, as if talking to a baby.

''We're going to the TerrorTours, to look for the leaflets that might've been lost or blown away. After that we'll be going to the train station,'' she gave him a fake sugary smile and patted him on the head like one would a small child.

Considering that she was a good head and a half shorter than him, it was ridiculous. It didn't stop her, though.

''Will we visit Gringotts?'' he asked, ''I have money.''

Astoria, wide-eyed, looked at him like he was a complete imbecile.

''Tell me you're joking, Potter. No one, not even you, can be so stupid.''

She sighed and cursed under her breath when he just blinked at her.

''If we go to Gringotts, which we can't because it's closed, we'll be alerting your magical guardian the second we take a single knut. But if you want to go back to school so much, be my guest. Go to Gringotts.''

''Sorry,'' he murmured, finally remembering that all banks led records of all their accounts, but Astoria had already moved on.

She walked up to the barrier, tapping the right brick and opening the passageway.

A shell-shocked Harry wanted to strangle her. They couldn't just use magic so frivolously, the Ministry might catch them. That was the first thing he had ever learnt about the Ministry, and he had thought that everyone would know that. Obviously, he was wrong. He hurried after her, doing his best not to raise any noise and silently promising to himself that he would keep Astoria under control. Clearly she couldn't be trusted with it herself.

They had to walk a fair bit to get to the place she spoke of, at least five minutes in an almost run. The TerrorTours was located in a crooked building with a dozen little towers and had huge posters covering its walls. It was, of course, closed for the day, and Astoria was already searching the ground for stray adds. Harry joined her after she beckoned him over.

He got lucky on his first try and picked up what looked like a tourist brochure. It was a bit faded and wet, but the print was still visible, and that was the most important part. Harry stifled a quiet laugh at the picture on its front – a man being chased by vampires and mummies, screaming while his friends in the background too pictures with bulky cameras.

Astoria didn't even give him a chance to look it over any further though, choosing to snatch it away from him and then to drag him back to the Leaky.

Going through the pub was a nerve-wrecking experience and Harry kept expecting someone to recognize him and give them away. No one did, though, not even the busty and scantily clad maid who stared at them curiously.

And then, muggle London.

It stretched in front of them in all its dirty glory, filled with leaves and pigeons and lonely men. Astoria stared at everything they passed with unabashed fascination, from cars to the concrete beneath their feet, while Harry wanted nothing more than to get to King's Cross, fast.

However, it didn't stop him from explaining the things around them to her in the most condescending tone of voice possible. ''That's the pavement, Astoria, surely you have seen it before.'' He took pride in the annoyed glares she sent his way, even more so when she didn't say anything to him because she truly didn't know what all the muggle things around them were.

They did reach the train station, eventually, but it was only his pleading for her to hurry up and the mention of the professors finding them that got her moving along with haste rather than at the slow shuffling pace she had been using.

The train station was far from crowded, but it wasn't empty either. There were people milling about, most of them adults, men at that, who looked very grown up and very busy. They wore suits and were rushing from one end of the station to the other, talking on their phones and giving them suspicious looks. Harry met their eyes serenely, not looking away even when they tried to have a glaring contest with him. Or, at least, that was what it looked like.

Astoria sniffed at their rudeness and mumbled to herself about ''mannerless muggles''.

She led him to the platforms 7 and 8, her strides a bit shorter than before. Looking around to check for the muggles watching them, she waited for them all to turn their heads and then pulled him through the wall separating the platforms.

They melted through it in an almost lazy manner, appearing on the other side without a single strand of hair out of place.

Harry, who had never even thought about there being another magical train platform, observed it with impatient awe. Platform Seven and a Half, read the copper sign next to the shiny green train waiting for its passengers. The Platform was empty except for a weedy looking man who stood by the train.

The man frowned at them and fingered his moustache, which was humorously styled to resemble the moustache of those French gentlemen from old black and white films.

''What are two young children doing here in the middle of the night, alone?''

Despite the slightly accusing tone of voice, the man offered them a smile. Astoria was the one to answer him, and Harry couldn't believe how quickly she had donned a mask.

''We're going to his family reunion in France.'' she said demurely, ''We have a contract, so I'm coming with him.''

The man looked to him for a confirmation, and Harry improvised. Remembering the Beauxbatons students he quickly elaborated on Astoria's lie.

''Cousin Fleur is getting married, and Asha's going to be a bridesmaid. Everyone else is already there, but Asha's parents didn't want to let her go. They don't like the idea of us very much.''

He tried to roll his 'r's the way the French did, but it was hard. The man didn't seem to notice anything wrong, however, and Harry counted their blessings and promised to do his homework on time for the rest of his life.

'Asha' paid for the tickets, and the man wished them a safe journey to Quiberon, wherever that was, as he pulled their trunks on board.

Astoria let him pick a compartment, and once in, she took up half of it by spreading her fur coat across the seats. It was warm in there, and a greying witch came and brought them pillows and blankets for the night. She also offered food and butterbeer, which they both happily accepted.

Sitting on a train headed for France, drinking hot butterbeer and with adrenaline pumping through their veins, Harry and Astoria grinned at each other. Let the chase begin.

**The least you can do is review.**

**Unbetaed.**

**LC**


	4. Of Quidditch and Pawn Shops

**Another update.**

**Dear God, why am I writing this? Am I under the Imperius?**

**Now that that's out of the way, we can get on with the story.**

**Unbetaed.**

Quiberon, as it turned out to be, was a fairly large village, or maybe a small town.

Harry and Astoria stared at its outskirts through the windows, and they were both surprised by how different it was from what they were used to. Harry stared at the cows and he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the millions of tiny black birds soaring through the sky. Astoria gaped at the barn animals roaming the land – Harry doubted she ever saw them in person.

The train glided to a stop on a station a couple of minutes to the north of the village, a bit outside its boundaries.

They said goodbye to the butterbeer witch and the old wizard from the compartment next to theirs, and ventured into the village, passing in their way through a pretty garden filled with evergreen trees.

The buildings were all white and blue, almost muggle looking. The magical population living there was given away, though, by the hundreds of Wiggentrees that just wouldn't stop moving around. They almost looked like they were dancing.

As Harry and Astoria passed through the village, they noted that it was strangely empty. There were people, but not as many as they had expected. Old people, mostly, and young children with their mothers. When they asked about it they were told of the Quidditch match.

The Quiberon Quafflepunchers, the most beloved French Quidditch team bar the national one, was playing its first game of the season. Against the Lyon Lions, at that! Astoria didn't know what that was all about, and so Harry had to explain to her in an appalled voice that the two teams were famous because of their eternal derby.

Apparently, everyone who was anyone and all of their friends went to the game, not that Harry was surprised. From what he understood from the old man's rapid French, he had wanted to go as well, but the tickets had been sold out.

He dragged Astoria as close to the pitch as they could get, and avidly listened to the commentator. Of course, he couldn't understand a word that was being said, but Quidditch was Quidditch, and so Harry did his best to guess at the translation.

Astoria took one look at him and led him to the entrance. She snuck them in, and Harry didn't bother protesting because he knew she wouldn't care. Plus, he really wanted to see the match.

They were completely lost in the sea of fans, and thus free to watch the game without worrying about being discovered. A lady with three kids gave them a bag of home-made biscuits after cooing over Astoria's hair. Harry took a good long look at the locks in question, but he still didn't see anything special about them. Blonde, wavy and hanging limply a few inches below her shoulders, it was just like the hair of any other girl. He still happily accepted the biscuits, though. They were a bit too sweet for his tastes, but Astoria didn't even hesitate to take them and, in an uncharacteristic display of kindness, offered to share it with him. He took one and they finished them off with relish.

The match ended with both of the seekers chasing after the snitch neck to neck, doing two full circles around the pitch. It wasn't all that impressive, not in the terms of Qudditch skills, but all the adrenaline and sugar in his blood made him easily excitable. Harry cheered with everybody else when the pink clad seeker for the Quafflepunchers caught the little ball, and he couldn't help but laugh when the white garbed seeker let out a loud and complex stream of words that made Astoria blush and the various mothers in the stands to cover their children's ears.

Once it was over, he followed Astoria back to the village.

He tried to keep a low profile and avoid alerting anyone to their fugitive status, but Astoria had no qualms about attracting attention to herself by acting like some foreign princess visiting a poor village of uneducated barbarians. Harry shifted from foot to foot when some tall men gave them dark looks.

It was a grand building she took him to, with big windows showing off many strange and obviously valuable things. Jewelry and antiques, with some books for diversity littered the many stands. Many of the artefacts were spinning and moving or displaying their magic in ways that one would have to be a blind, deaf and stupid not to notice. He couldn't read the sign above the door, but once inside Harry could easily see that it was a pawn shop. The general air of wealth and rudeness was unmistakable, even to one such as him who had never been to a pawn shop before.

Astoria went up to the counter, and Harry tore his eyes away from the merchandise to see what she was doing. From the purse around her neck, she pulled out something small and wrapped in a handkerchief. When she unwrapped it, Harry could see that it was a necklace. A long silver chain with a bright yellow crystal hanging off it as a pendant, held tightly in Astoria's hand.

The fat man's eyes lit up in what Harry recognized as greed.

He bantered with Astoria for a while, so long that Harry got bored and almost went out to explore the village some more. He didn't, though, and he stared in shock as the man took the chain from his fellow runaway and handed her a rather large pile of galleons. He counted alongside Astoria as the man added one galleon after another, but he gave up after one hundred. He couldn't believe how valuable that little necklace had been.

Taking the gold and giving the man a poisonous glare, Astoria went outside. Harry went after her, not wanting to get lost in the middle of a strange French town, especially because Astoria had managed to alienate almost everyone they met so far, and he had been with her during all that.

He found her sitting on a bench near some bakery, playing with a galleon. The sun was going down rapidly, and its orange glow was making her seem even paler than she usually was, to the point of appearing sickly.

''It was my grandmother's,'' she said abruptly, jolting him from his thought about her health, ''but I filched it off Daphne. Father gave it to her last year, and she never took it off. She was asleep when I stole it.''

Harry sat next to her. He wasn't sure whether he was sitting too close, for she had fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment, but he didn't move away. If she didn't want him near her, that was her problem.

He didn't know what to say to her statement, though. For all that they were traveling together, he didn't know anything about her other than her House, and now here she was, trying to have a heart to heart with him.

He settled for a simple, ''It was very expensive.''

She nodded her head and avoided his eyes. Harry decided that she looked rather ashamed, and maybe even regretful. But he couldn't empathise with her when it came to this kind of thing, because he didn't have any experience when it came to families, and it had been her idea to steal in the first place.

''Do you feel bad about selling it?'' he asked.

''No,'' came the answer, given in the same calm tone in which she always spoke, ''I don't.''

He got the feeling that any further questions about that particular topic would be answered with insults, so he changed the topic.

''Do you think they found out we're gone?''

There was no need to clarify who 'they' were, and she shook her head. She seemed almost normal like that, with her fur coat off and her hair messy. Well, as normal as a cold pureblood Slytherin can be.

''It will be in the papers when they find out. We'll know when it happens.''

Astoria stood up and turned to face him. There was an odd relaxed curve to her jawline, as if a great weight had been taken off her shoulders. Harry thought that she was much better looking without those few tons on her back, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, let alone himself.

''Do you want to sleep on the train or go to a hotel?''

Harry stared. The way she cheered up was a bit strange, and he once more wondered about the girl he was traveling with.

Apparently, he took too much time in answering her. She frowned at him and he quickly answered her to stop her from getting angry.

''The train. We should save the money, we'll need it.''

''Okay,'' she said, her voice cracking a bit. Harry wouldn't have even noticed it if he hadn't known how to recognize sadness. He didn't comment as it really wasn't his place.

They walked to the train slowly, stopping here and there to sight-see. Astoria translated some of the signs and adds they passed by, and Harry used some of his own money to buy them a slice of pie each. Astoria said they were called 'quiche', but it was just pie to him.

The butterbeer witch waved at them merrily from her place at the front of the train, and they offered her smiles in return. Finding their compartment was easy – their stuff was a dead give-away.

Harry sat on his side of the compartment and waited for Astoria to seat herself on her side.

''Where are we going next?'' he asked. It was a reasonable question, and Astoria accepted it as such.

''Marseilles,'' she said, ''and from there we're going to Egypt.''

Harry's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He had guessed they'd be going to Paris or Barcelona or even Munich, but Egypt? What was there to see in Egypt? Well, other that the pyramids.

Another reason he had for his queasiness was something he remembered from his third year. Ron's oldest brother, Bill, worked in Egypt. Of course, the chances of them running into Bill were miniscule, but it still made his stomach churn awkwardly.

''Wha…?''

''The cheapest ship, and the only one we can pay for right now, goes from Marseilles to Cairo. I remember lady Bulstrode went there with her husband this summer. She was most eager to brag to my mother when she came over for tea a couple of months ago. This add here,'' she waved the TerrorTours leaflet, ''says that two economy class tickets cost twenty seven galleons, with an additional ten galleons for food and medical insurance.''

Harry took a deep breath in, realizing what she meant. Money didn't grow on trees, after all.

''And we'll need to pay for a hotel when we get there,'' he murmured.

Astoria nodded her head and relaxed into a lying position. Harry did the same and let all the tension drain away from his body. It felt nice. Kind of like lounging on a hospital bed after surviving some horrible adventure, knowing that everything would be alright and he would get a big, warm dinner soon.

''The port-key?'' he asked, figuring it was safe.

She craned her neck to look at him. Harry blinked at her guilelessly, doing his best to look innocent. Astoria bought it, despite the fact that his acting abilities were downright pathetic.

''I blackmailed Theo.''

Harry blinked again at the unexpected reply, though he supposed he really oughtn't be surprised. This was the same girl who mugged her own sister. She passed him a butterbeer, almost kindly.

''He was kissing a boy in the girl's lavatory. No idea why, maybe he thought no one would look for him in there, but anyway. I caught them and he begged me not to say anything. I said I wouldn't, and he gave me his sister's port-key in return.''

''Why's it so bad that he was kissing a boy?'' Harry frowned. He wasn't all that sure how he felt about same sex relationships, and he didn't want to judge. He had first-hand knowledge what discrimination felt like, after all.

Astoria smiled at him the way crocodiles smile, smug and amused with her prey.

''He was kissing a muggle-born boy_. _His father would have disowned him, and has been very close to doing just that for two years now. I have no idea what he did, but it must have been big.''

Harry didn't ask anything after that. He and Astoria had made an effort to begin building bridges, but those bridges were far from done. He didn't want to do anything that could burn them before they were even made.

He let Astoria have one of his blankets when she complained about the cold, and settled into his makeshift bed. He glanced at Hedwig, whose bright eyes seemed to judge him, and he silently wished her a good night hunt as she flew out the little window on the far left.

He wasn't uncomfortable, but there was a weight on his chest bothering him. He missed Hogwarts. He missed his friends, even if they didn't miss him, and for a moment, he wished he was back at school.

He quickly banished that thought and drifted off to sleep with a final look in Astoria's direction.

**So, they're finally becoming friends. I hope you're happy, because for some reason, I am.**

**Reviews would be lovely.**

**LC**


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